Plug In Baby
by rinkaku
Summary: Lovino is working the day shift at Lacey's, grateful at the lack of holiday shoppers. Instead, however, he receives a handful of humility and a mouthful of Spaniard. Oh, the joy. Spain/Romano. One-Shot.


**Pairings:** Spain x Romano

**Word Count:** 3,427 words

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** minor innuendo/sexual references but no actual sex; some cursing. Human names used.

**Author's Note:** This is my gift for the Spamano Secret Santa Gift Exchange on lj. My recipient having been Sucrose2071. I hope you all enjoy it~!

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><p>The sound of a chime ringing overhead does not deter the auburn-headed male sitting placidly at his desk. A pair of emerald eyes stare at the young man intently, a curious furrow to his brows, but he smiles slightly when the worker merely gives him a once-over before focusing back on his magazine. He notes the title- it's in Italian, a language he studied for a while before ending his education, much like his native Spanish- and racks his brain for a translation.<p>

"It's a football edition, _cazzo_." he starts a little at the sudden voice, eyes a bit wide in surprise when his gaze is caught by amber. "Look, it's fine if you look around, but _I'm_ not part of the stock, got it?"

He chuckles lowly to himself, uttering a semi-apologetic "Sorry, sorry." before picking up a basket and beginning his stroll on the right half of the store.

Lovino is nervous of the wariness he seems to be exhibiting- the moment this new costumer entered, nonetheless- and is none too eager at the sudden flush blossoming on his cheeks when the brunette flashes him a friendly smile. _It certainly doesn't help that he's holding a vibrator_, his mind mutters, and swiftly returns to his magazine.

Antonio studies the shelf before him, and after sparing a few hopeful gazes finds himself displeased with the toys and is eager to head onto the next section: the books and videos. He can sense the distinct bristling along his neck, the sign that someone is watching him- and rather intently so- but brushes it off as he cards absentmindedly through the rack. He figures, although it may not be the brightest idea to allow his instincts to be neglected in such a fashion, as he turns to find an abashed redhead quickly averting his gaze back down to his magazine, the Spaniard can't help the little lilt of a smirk fighting its way on him.

Flitting through one final row, the brunette finds himself throwing another glance over his shoulder at the obviously distracted worker.

"Pretty empty today, isn't it?" he chirps, a friendly smile on him as he catches sight of serious amber roving their attention over to him. He's pleased with the soft blush on the redhead, finding that he rather enjoys his flushed face and absentmindedly licks his bottom lip over it.

He's more so pleased at the little yelp-like swear the worker gives, before bitterly snapping at him, "Yeah, well, not most people think to shop in an adult store on _Christmas Eve_."

The brunette eyes him blankly for a moment, the redhead shifting a little under the almost scrutinizing gaze but can't think too hard on it when a mirthful chuckle permeates the air. He kicks himself repeatedly, internally, on the inanity that he finds his voice handsome- _it's the stupid holiday spirit getting to you, that's all, don't shit yourself, L-_

"Lovino?"

He sucks in a bate of breath at the sound of his name on the other mans lips, his stance tense and his grip so violent on his magazine the Spaniard is afraid he might just tear it apart.

"W-what?" he splutters, his face a little more hot and his head a lot more dizzy. "H-how the _fuck_ do you know my name, bastard-"

Another bout of mirthful chuckles escapes the brunette, his cheeks tinged a soft pink and Lovino wonders why it is that his general anxiety of people isn't as apparent with this man.

"Your name-tag." the brunette points at his shirt, which is a shade a tad too pinkish but he blames his brother for his wearing it. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would bother you. If you want me to call you something else, please, I'll-"

"Just shut up!" he grumbles, furthermore frustrated at the almost frightened look the customer (_or pedestrian, given that he shows no signs of wanting to buy anything, the bastard-_!) and is promptly shooting him as much of an apologetic look as his pride allows him. "I-it's fine, call me whatever the fuck you so damn please, just _go back to shopping_."

He wants to outright beat the brunette's face in when he's laughing again, a bit more deeper and for a longer while now as he's- _wait no he's not walking over to me fuck fuck fuck_-

"Ah, Lovino, you're so adorable!" he begins to coo, much to the redhead's surprise and abhorrence. "My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by the way. I know you might be busy and all-"

"-the fuck, there isn't anyone in here _but us,_ you idiot!"

The Spaniard quirks a brow at this, but he smirks a little as he continues; "-but I'd like for us to get along?"

Cheeks flushed a little at the more than obvious entailment his words held, Lovino shirks the proffered hand to instead crumple his magazine a bit. He finds himself blushing a shade darker, however, when he realizes that the Spaniard's sight is no longer trained on him- but rather, his magazine- and he's hissing dozens of swears under his breath when his cheeks blossom a wonderful pallet of pink.

"Lovino," he softly mutters into the suddenly-tense atmosphere, expression focused in a manner that the Italian almost doesn't recognize, "do you think you could do me a favor?"

He scowls, very deeply, and shoots _various_ questioning looks at the brunette before he graces him with his (extremely tentative) answer of "W-what the fuck do you want, bastard?"

Antonio- Lovino wants to spit in disgust at how much he deems the name fits the male- smiles a little, almost wryly with a tinge of humility that causes Lovino to see him in a new light.

"Do you think you could help me in choosing a gift?" the Spaniard's inquiry sits in the air for a while, roiling about and sinking in the overworked mind of Lovino.

"W-what kind of idiot goes to a store- much less on_ Christmas Eve_- and doesn't know what he wants to buy?" he remarks rather brusquely, but his bite is as soft as his bark; he's soon limping away from the safety of his counter (certain to chuck the _obviously homosexual_ magazine into the depths underneath his desk) and standing before the brunette.

It's then, they both notice the lucid abstractions between them: Antonio is an inch or two taller, Lovino's hair is a smidgen too light to be burgundy but too dark to be auburn, and the contrast of their attention. He's ever the more hesitant of what he's doing- which completely corrupts his self-instilled moral of not giving fucks for others- when he catches luxurious emerald lingering among the lingerie section.

"Well, you see, it's for me, haha." Antonio nervously blurts, a tanned hand quick to seek purchase in rubbing the back of his neck while the other scuttles into his jean pocket. "I wanted to buy something for myself, but... I've never actually been into this kind of store, alone."

Lovino is instantly pulled from his shock, his heart relenting a little when he replays that last bit- _alone_. Does that mean he's buying it for himself, solely? Or rather, that he's recently single? Can Lovino safely assume Antonio's just in there to indulge himself, while he safely has a partner at home waiting to appease his sexual needs? Even if that's true, is that all he's seeking at this point- or is he seeking an escape, a tandem that will allow him the intangible allowance of a fulfillment beyond sex?

"It depends what you were thinking of doing." he methodically responds, both of them startled at the unusual softness seeping into his tone. He coughs slightly into his hand, amber gaze flitting away to everywhere but those searing emeralds. "You know, what you and your partner were thinking of doing."

Lovino finds himself stricken with pity, for lack of a better word, when the brunette's passionate eyes fluctuate under a brief curtain of sorrow and sombre.

"Ah, haha, you see, I... well, it's just for me." the brunette stutters out, a heavy disinclination in his voice and a deplorable reluctance in his pained expression. "It's my first time in ten years since I've had to spend the Holidays alone."

Worrying his lip between his teeth, the Italian is sorely tempted to boot the Spaniard out onto the street because he realizes that the immense tidal-wave of sentiments he's feeling are illogical. Irrational, out of place, out of character _out of reason_. However, he finds himself all the more desiring to act upon this sudden sympathy- or is it empathy?- because the pained look on the brunette is somehow too much to bear. He knows, in a manner and sense he can't and won't ever be able to grasp, that he isn't typically the lamentable type. So, Lovino shoves the sudden nausea building in his tummy as he snatches the Spaniard's hand from his jeans, a flushed look on him as he steels his sight upon him.

"I probably don't know what shit you've been through, or exactly how bad you must be having it right now, A-Antonio," -(he can't stop his own lip from twitching when the brunette beams at the usage of his name now)- "but I know this, b-bastard: you can't let it get to you. It's the day before Christ's birthday, fuck dammit, so be _happy_!"

Without further ado, the redhead is mortified at himself when he finds that he's reacting too late when he realizes he's outright kissing the man. He slams his eyelids closed, absolutely terrified of what emotions those startlingly readable emerald may betray; his hands, however, still remained locked about those sun-kissed arms, weighing him down in a fashion that expressed what he was so desperate in getting through.

_This may not be enough or mean anything, but please feel better soon._

He gasps into the foreign mouth he pounced on when the brunette is suddenly _reacting_, plush lips molding against his own in a manner so intimate and brutal all the while that causes a different kind of heat to settle in Lovino's skin. He beats a little at the man's chest, partly because he's frightened that he can't hold on any longer without any air, and partly because he can't bring himself to enjoy this any more, either.

Panting, lips semi-swollen and bruised, he's retracting a possible glare when the Spaniard simply stares back at him- abashed and startled, though _why_ Lovino doesn't fucking know and doesn't _want_ to know- and instead shoves a few hangers of lingerie into his somewhat-heaving chest.

"Try these, maybe they'll work." he finally manages out, a heavy flush set across the bridge of his nose and the rise of his soft cheeks.

Antonio is wary of the clothes now in his hands, and he sends Lovino a look of exasperation when the Italian is notably attempting to walk away.

"W-wait, Lovino!" he cries out, shoving the merchandise onto the floor so disparagingly that the redhead can't help but allow himself to turn back around.

He is sorely wishing he hadn't, however, when he's captured in another kiss.

Lovino thrashes some against the man, his mind frazzled and begging him to flee- but his body, oh _god damn his body_ is reacting ever so familiarly to the Spaniard's touches. He kicks a leg out and slams his hand against the opposing chest, but is surprised himself when the sounds of whimpers echoing are spilling from him every time Antonio parts to breathe. His head is dizzy now, hands a little numb from having beat at his torso and legs worthless by then. He acknowledges how out-of-hand this may be getting, but can't help but to slight the idea when tanned hands circle his waist, possessively, and press him flush to the heavily-breathing Spaniard.

"W-what... the fuck, _coglione_...!" he breathes, his face pinched in anger as he attempts a glare among his burden of trying to regain his breath.

His breath escapes him, however, when the Spaniard reclines against him; face buried into his pink-shirted shoulder and something wet trickles onto his collar. It's a faint dawning on Lovino that _Antonio's crying, on him, after having brutally assaulted him, no less!_ He figures, however, that there is no point in trying to fight for his pride while the brunette sniffles against him.

"_L-lo siento_, Lovino..." the redhead has to stop himself from snapping at him; merely grunting for the Spaniard to continue. "Can I just stay like this? For a little longer?"

Lovino is sorely tempted to simply shove off the brunette, all senses begging him to preserve his pride and _get him off_ but he shoves them away, instead. He figures, if he can do something nice for someone, at least like this, he doesn't mind being pressed against the wall like this-

"What the fuck?" he yelps when he senses the Spaniard nuzzle against his nape, face flushed hot as he tries kicking the man off. "Antonio, what the hell-"

"Ah, I'm sorry, it's just- you smell so much like she did!" he coos, and Lovino almost wilts under the pang of guilt that hits him.

However, he stops himself when the Spaniard suddenly chirps, "Isabela was so much more fluffier- and tinier- than you, but you're a lot alike!"

Antonio is soon on the floor in a curled heap promptly as Lovino retracts his leg and rights himself, face flushed in both anger and embarrassment when everything finally sinks in.

"... _you were talking about a __**cat**_?"

Antonio looks at him as if Lovino was the one who had done wrong, but slowly nods his head as he holds his bruised knee towards himself on his seat on the floor.

"Sí! She lived with me for quite a while- what had you thought I was talking about, Lovino?"

Averting his gaze, Lovino mutters, "A lover, a partner, something normal for walking into a _sex shop_, you stupid bastard..."

He's furthermore baffled at the abashed look Antonio gives him, his emerald eyes wide and full of sheer surprise.

"_Espera_, what?" he inquires as he looks about, his face steadfastly blossoming into darker shades of pink. "I thought this was a pet store!"

Lovino was torn between slamming his head against the wall or slamming the Spaniard's head against the wall.

"To think idiots like you exist." he grumbles under his breath, scathingly sticking his hand out to aid the brunette out of his prone position. "I'm amazed your cat died before you did."

Antonio is soon chuckling- gracefully taking the Italian's hand and propping himself upright- and is wearing a simple, pink blush now, lips stretched into a mirthful smile that Lovino loathes to admit is coaxing his own scowl into a faint smile, too.

"That's funny, my friends said that, too!" he chuckles a little more, wary of his surroundings now (unlike earlier, which is quite amazing to Lovino still) before scratching the side of his cheek sheepishly. "You, um... are you doing anything later today?"

Lovino soon tenses, his hands curling at his sides and his olive-flecked amber eyes widening, his voice caught in his throat. Although it hasn't been too long since he's last gone out- and it's even less daunting considering his last partner was a man- he can't help but find himself utterly never-wracked at the thought. Surely the brunette was kidding with him? Honestly, who would take any interest in someone like himself? Hadn't he already been able to gauge his unmanageable volatile tendencies? He seriously had to be stupid in the head to want-

"No." he is more shocked at himself as he blurts the single syllable out, his hands soon being cradled within the Spaniard's in a fashion too wondrous for him to pull away from. "I-I'm not doing anything today."

Grinning broadly, the brunette's emerald eyes shine as he plants gentle kisses on his bare knuckles, successfully eliciting yet another flurry of stuttered swears and soft blushing from the clearly younger Italian.

"_¡__Maravilloso__!_" he ushers, hugging the redhead close to himself, unaware of the mix of discomfort and indulgence that tides over him. "We can spend it together, then!"

Lovino desires nothing more than to kick him in **both** of his shins to get his message across, but refrains from doing so when he recalls of the previously devastated look the Spaniard had worn.

"A-as long as you don't try anything stupid, fucker, i-it's fine." he grumbles, irritated, but is awkwardly smiling when the Spaniard replies with a soft hum and a beaming smile.

He figures, if the man had been trying to take advantage of him, it would have long occurred; and with this novel trust having formed between them, he shirks the biting respite forming in the back of his mind. If he can at least spend the day with Antonio- because he honestly had no plans, otherwise- he may as well.

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><p>Lovino groans deep in his throat, cursing angrily at the empty hangers before him. Where his clothes were supposed to have been, he barks at himself, an angry flush claiming his cheeks and making him feel even more stuffy in the tiny dressing room he finds himself in. He wants to simply tear off the costume he's been forced to wear, but keeps in mind the dogged thought that it's the only thing keeping him from being outright <em>nude<em> in his own goddamn store. Slamming his head against the door he's tightly shoved himself against, he can't fight the yelp he emits when Antonio jiggles the doorknob for the umpteenth time that minute.

"_Andale_, Lovino, let me see your face~!" the Spaniard outside the changing room coos, his face clearly set in a both mocking and incurring voice.

"_Vaffanculo, coglione_!" the Italian screeches, his hands reaching to keep the mirrored door before him closed. "Go away, I'm not coming out!"

Antonio whines a little in his throat, lucidly displeased but more so determined on yanking the door open- even if it means pulling it right off its hinges. It's not so much that he desires to ruin the door, but he just wants to see how much more cuter the Italian must look- all red and flustered and frightened. If it hadn't been a turn-on earlier, Antonio amazed himself with how attractive the idea was now.

He didn't, however, question the strong attraction (both physically and emotionally) he had already grown for the fiery Italian.

"I said _fuck off_, bastard!" he desperately and miserably yells again, clammy hands reaching for the now suddenly fragile door-knob.

His face is painted in a deep flush as he glares harder at the reflection of himself. _Damn changing rooms and large mirrors with zoom-in possibilities, the creators would rue the day once he got his hands on the bastards!_ He mentally fumed, before yelping like a frightened animal when he noted the abrupt glimpse he had of the offending Spaniard much too eagerly _(maniacally!)_ laughing on the other side of the door.

"Fuck off, _maldita sea_!" Romano frustratedly barks once more, tears in his eyes as he is flooded with self-respite at how it is he ended up as he was.

He'd just wanted to cheer the man up- who had stuck and grown on him like a virus, might he add- and now look where _that_ charity had ended him up: fucked!

"Come on, Lovino~ it's just a maid outfit; it can't be that embarrassing!" he despondently whined, giving one final jiggle to the doorknob before slinking back a little. "I promise, I won't laugh!"

Growling and swearing, the Italian gave a violent shove of his own against his only protective barrier before growling, "You said that the last five times; _what the fuck _makes you think I'll believe you again?"

Lovino slams his head unceremoniously against the abused door as he hears Antonio give little apologetic whines, assuring him in a placating and mollifying tone that _I won't try to jump you again, I promise!_

"That's what you said when I wore the police officer uniform! I hope you realize those kind of stains don't come off unless it's dry-cleaned, _bastardo_!"


End file.
